


The Alley Cat Is [Augustus Waters voice] A Metaphor

by bravest_person_in_Wonderland



Series: Something That Isn't Even a Love Story Is STILL a Better Love Story Than Twilight [3]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Albert DaSilva is a Good Friend, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Anxious Racetrack Higgins, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, I'm Sorry, Protective Albert DaSilva, Race and Smalls Platonic Life Partners, Smalls is a Good Friend, Smoking, The Refuge (Newsies), for the name thing, i probably treat that way more seriously than was ever intended, i wanna rival the les mis fandom, my inability to write strong endings strikes again, plz tag wranglers can i have that one tag, shoutout to the wormsies discord, so i suppose i should also tag, which i unironically accepted the instant i saw it lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28985247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravest_person_in_Wonderland/pseuds/bravest_person_in_Wonderland
Summary: In which Jack is absent under less-than-ideal circumstances, Race could really use a therapist, and Smalls Knows Things.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva & Racetrack Higgins, Crutchie & Jack Kelly, Crutchie & Racetrack Higgins, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly, Racetrack Higgins & Smalls
Series: Something That Isn't Even a Love Story Is STILL a Better Love Story Than Twilight [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130330
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	The Alley Cat Is [Augustus Waters voice] A Metaphor

**Author's Note:**

> back at it with the platonic soulmates stuff hehehehe I saw that the Les Mis fandom on here has a "Combeferre and Enjolras Platonic Life Partners" tag so I decided to make one for Race and Smalls lol 
> 
> I have no idea who it was that originally came up with the crack thing about Race's name, I just know it came from the wormsies server, so... many thanks to them XD

Race ran. He'd always been fast, ever since he was a kid, and now he put his long legs to good use. He didn't even know where he was going, just where he was running from. He didn't stop until he ran out of strength, the neglect and mistreatment of the refuge catching up to him, and he slumped in an alley to catch his breath.

He rubbed his hands down his face with a faint groan that was somewhere between frustrated and desperate. He had thought he was accustomed to the buzzing in his chest that sometimes rose up into irrational terror, but now it knotted around his ribs and squeezed, making his breaths come even harder because of its grip. The problem was that this time, the panic wasn't irrational. Not in the least.

Jack was back there, in the refuge, probably suffering the consequences of helping Race escape. Race didn't want to think about what that _punishment_ might be like. He let his head fall back against the wall and struggled to stay present. He had to get home. He couldn't do anything for Jack alone, let alone in his bruised and hungry condition. And-

God help him.

Jack was still in the refuge. Race was not. That meant he was supposed to be in charge of the borough, since he was Jack's second, and that realization sent a red-hot spike through him, adding to the still-swirling anxiety he was already fighting. In no way was he prepared for this. He had considered before what he would do if something ever happened to Jack, but he had never seriously given it much thought because he had taken for granted that his brother would always be around.

What if Snyder got _too_ mad? Everybody know he had a bone to pick with Jack in particular, and it was entirely too realistic to think he might lose his temper, especially with the trick Jack had just pulled in getting Race out. The Spider wouldn't... _kill_ him, would he?

No, Jack would be fine. He had been caught and taken to the refuge more times than most and he had always made it out, sometimes a little worse for wear but always ready to get back out on the streets as soon as possible. He always made it out, and this time would be no different. Race couldn't afford to let himself consider otherwise, because if he did, it would incapacitate him. Maybe it already had.

Race wished he had a cigar. The feel of it in his mouth would ground him to the here and now, and the smoke was comforting somehow. He could feel himself drifting into a fog of fear and worry, and since he was alone there was nothing to anchor him. He didn't know how much time passed in that alley, crumpled alone against a wall, trying to breathe past the overwhelming tingling of panic and _what-ifs._

An echoing clang sounded from a fire escape that led into the alley, and Race jumped at the noise. He stared up, his heart pounding from being startled like that, and his eyes met those of a calico cat that peeked down from the balcony. Evidently, it had jumped down from somewhere and caused the loud sound of jolting metal that had pulled Race from his reverie. He raised a faintly trembling hand and gave the cat a loose salute, despite the silliness of the gesture.

Knowing that it would be useless to get lost in his own mind again, Race got to his feet. There was a thick, soupy smog in the sky, so he couldn't judge what time it was, but he knew he had to have been in this alley for some time. He wasn't entirely sure where he was, but he couldn't be too far from Manhattan. He definitely hadn't crossed the bridge, so that was one thing. If he started home now, maybe some of the others would be back by the time he got there.

Race didn’t dare backtrack. Snyder and his men could still recapture him, and then what? Vaguely, without letting himself dwell on it too much because he knew his mental state was fragile at the moment, – he was at least a little self-aware, sometimes – he wondered who had stepped into the role of leader in the absence of both him and Jack. His money was on it being Specs.

It had been four days in the refuge, four more days lost to the nightmare the Spider curated. And Jack was still living it. Race physically shook his head as if that would rid him of the thought, and started counting his steps as he walked. _One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four,_ over and over again, falling into the steady rhythm of shoe rubber hitting sidewalk. He navigated the city on the kind of instinct that only comes from living somewhere your entire life. 

The smog was slightly thinner by the time he reached the lodging house, and he thought the sky looked a little darker, like it was now evening. This conclusion was confirmed by the fact that the others were clearly back, proved by Elmer bolting out the front to tackle Race in a hug.

"Hi," Race wheezed, wincing. He couldn't manage much more, considering how tightly Elmer was hugging him. Not that he minded, not in the least.

The kid dragged him inside by a hand, giving him only a moment to cast a jaunty wave at Mr. Kloppman before he was pulled up the stairs into the full bunkroom. Apparently everybody had sold the evening edition especially fast today, or else taken less copies than normal, as it was early for them all to be there. A few faint gasps and noises of relief and excitement were heard as they all saw Race.

Albert was the first to reach him, looking him thoroughly up and down and frowning at all the bruises, but clearly relieved that it wasn’t worse. Looking around the room, it was lear to Race that everyone was slowly realizing that Jack was nowhere in sight and putting two and two together, but he didn't get a chance to address it before Albert grabbed him by the shoulders and narrowed his eyes.

"How bad're ya hurt?"

"I's fine," Race said, almost laughing. As it was, he could feel a lopsided smile slip onto his face, the way it should be. "What ya can see's the worst of it."

There may have been layers of meaning to that sentence, a story of a brother defending his kid, but that wasn't something he would talk about in front of the younger newsies. Al may have recognized that, probably did, but he just nodded once and grinned back, albeit a bit subdued due to the rest of the circumstances, and pulled Race into a hug. After that it was a whirlwind of boys all rushing to greet him and touch him as if to make sure he wasn't a ghost, explanations and toned-down stories from the refuge, and the solemn, worried glances he shared with Crutchie.

They sat together, him and Crutchie, for a while in the midst of all the chatter, with an arm around each other as they whispered back and forth anytime the others weren't paying attention. Race couldn't speak for Crutchie, but to him it felt even in a room full of people like it was them against life. In a gesture that mimicked Jack so much that it was almost frightening, he shifted to kiss the side of Crutchie's head. When Crutchie looked at him with a softly confused smile, he just grinned lazily back and tried to hide the shadow behind his eyes.

After Race had been given the leftovers from the newsies' humble supper and they had all had a brief, tense discussion of Jack's current situation – they all agreed that someone should check on him soon, but not too soon for fear of exacerbating Snyder's rage – and played two rousing rounds of cards, it finally became clear that the sun was truly setting. Despite the thread of tension in the air and the buzzing that was still crouching in the back of Race's mind, he was utterly exhausted, to the point that he fell asleep probably before anyone else.

If anyone noticed that he slept a bit more restlessly than normal, they didn't say anything.

* * *

It became frustratingly clear that that first night back would probably be Race's last full night of sleep at least until things went back to normal and Jack was home. And that was _if_ things went back to normal, which seemed during the day like an irrational, overblown concern, considering Jack's past track record for escaping the refuge, but at night the anxiety burned so bright that it was almost a physical pain.

There was a certain sense of despair to being tired, yet unable to fall asleep. It was almost laughable, but only in a frustrated kind of way. So Race laid there, listening to the soft comforting breathing of sleeping newsies punctuated by a few snores here and there. His fingers reached up to rub his right collarbone where it had been broken during his first stay at the refuge.

The floor creaked, signaling that someone was up. Race ignored it, figuring that one of the others had to go relieve themselves, until he felt a weight drop unceremoniously onto his bed. He sat up, the habit of propping himself on his left elbow still there despite that his right shoulder had been healed for a long time now. The fog of the last few days had cleared up, and in the light of the moon he could see Smalls smirking at him from her usual spot at the end of the bed. For once, she spoke first.

"You ain't asleep."

Race snorted, quietly. "Yeah, I'd noticed."

"Worried 'bout Jack?" She quirked an eyebrow at him as if she knew exactly what was keeping him up. Maybe she did. She was just... like that, sometimes.

Race almost admitted it, not that it was much of an admission. They were all worried. But instead he did what he knew Jack himself would probably do – he lied.

"Nah," he whispered, with a shrug that hopefully looked casual. "Jack'll be fine."

"Yep," Smalls replied with a firm nod, then in typical form fell silent for a few minutes.

Race knew better than to go back to trying to fall asleep, so he waited. If she had anything more to say, which she probably did, she eventually would say it. And it wasn't like he would get to sleep anyway, not with the sting of fear still nesting in his gut.

"Wanna share?" She eventually asked, holding up something long and narrow. Race squinted to make out what the dark object was and was pleasantly surprised. It was a cigar, a brand-new one by the look of it. He hadn't yet managed to find a new one since returning to the lodging house, and he blinked in recognition and appreciation.

"Sure," he replied, maybe a bit more excitedly than was entirely normal. "Fire escape?"

Smalls nodded, and the two of them snuck carefully out onto the escape, the metal cool on their matching bare feet. A breeze blew between the many buildings of New York, adding a bit of chill to the night, and it took three tries to get the cigar lit. Smalls took a long pull, leaning against the railing, then handed it to Race.

They went back and forth like that for a while, eventually ending up sitting with their backs against the building, trying and failing to blow smoke rings. Something about it was comforting, maybe the familiarity of the smell and taste, maybe the quiet companionship. The anxiety was still there, woven through Race's ribs and buzzing in the back of his mind, but it was quieter now, at least for a little while.

"Thanks," he mumbled, causing Smalls to look over at him with mild surprise on her face.

She shrugged. "Neither of us was asleep."

"Why're you still up?" He asked, something why that question hadn't occurred to him sooner. There'd been plenty of times she'd woken him up in the middle of the night, usually to slip into his bed with him because apparently he pretty much radiated warmth. That made sense, because it could get awful cold in winter, but it _wasn't_ winter right now.

"Dunno," she replied. "Just am."

"'Kay." Race blinked and accepted that. If she did have a reason, there was no use trying to get her to tell him, and there was just as much chance that she honestly _didn't_ have a particular reason.

Silence fell again, a little heavier than before for no good reason. The smoldering cigar had gone out by now, and little wisps of residual smoke drifted up from where it sat on the fire escape. Race was tired, but he didn't want to go back inside. It was nice outside, and the stars were shining brightly above them. He leaned his head back against the wall and was reminded a bit of the scene in the alley a few days before.

Why his mind went there, he didn't know. Maybe he was just exhausted, his sleep-deprived mind making random connections between things, but now he felt alone again, like he had then before the cat had shown up. Slowly, he sucked in a deep breath, staring up at the sky and trying to think of anything but the buzzing that was now stirring up again. It was hard, because now that the thought was in his head, it was like magnetism, with his thoughts being drawn back again and again to the refuge and Jack and _whatifwhatifwhatif-_

Smalls bumped against him, shifting so that their arms were touching. He glanced over and met her knowing gaze, realizing not for the first time how perceptive she was. The contact, as slight as it was, pulled him back out of his head and into the clear city night. That phantom aloneness he had just been feeling faded, but still he sighed and brought his hand up to rub at his collarbone.

"Ya good?" Smalls asked.

Race shrugged. He didn't have it in him to lie again, especially when he knew that she knew he was lying. He gave a sheepish smile, then looked away.

"Been better," he eventually replied.

Smalls nodded slowly and let silence drop again as Race pulled one knee up at an angle and rested his arm on it, then leaned his head against his arm. He wondered if he was finally tired enough to actually get to sleep when they went back inside. Or, heck, he could sleep out here if he wanted. Who was going to stop him?

"It pro'ly wouldn't help if I mentioned I know your whole name, huh?"

Race's head shot up and he stared at her, wide-eyed in the dim light. "Ya _what?"_

She blinked at him calmly, a hint of amusement evident in her eyes. "I heard Jack say it one time," she explained, shrugging one shoulder as Race gaped.

It wasn't exactly that he minded. He was just really, _really_ surprised. What was even more surprising was what Smalls said next.

"Racer-Rose," she hissed through a wide, teasing grin. She laughed quietly at his face, which must have been absolutely scandalized.

"Don't call me that," he groaned, but he was laughing too. He dropped his face into his hands. Maybe it was just too late at night and he was too tired for this kind of ridiculousness, but for some reason the smile wouldn't leave his face now, and every time he looked over and made eye contact with Smalls, they both started giggling.

"You ever call me that again," he said, trying to look serious and failing miserably, "I won't share my cigars with ya anymore."

"Liar." She paused. "And this one's mine. I stole it."

"How very law-abidin' of ya."

"I do try."

Race snorted. "Sure. Just as much as I do," he said. "Which one of us is the, quote, _bad influence,_ again, anyway?" He made quotes in the air with his fingers as he spoke, remembering the time Specs had said something about that.

Smalls just shrugged again, casting them yet again into companionable silence. Quiet following laughter was the best kind, warm and safe. Race never knew which one of them fell asleep first, but they woke up at the distribution bell, Race's cheek pressed against the top of Smalls' head, which was leaning against his shoulder. It was oddly comfortable.

* * *

There was no warning, no sign. Nothing could have prepared Race for when he walked in the door of the lodging house a couple days later to see Jack casually chatting with Klopp as if nothing had happened. He froze for a few seconds, causing Finch – who had gone selling with him that day and was clearly not paying attention – to run into him from behind. Jack looked over and froze, as well.

"Race," Jack breathed, and that was all it took for Race's feet to get moving. In that moment he fully understood why Elmer had all but strangled him before.

It was kind of a blur, after that. Everybody else gradually filtered in and once they had all gotten home, Jack explained how he had waited until daytime – Snyder always expected escape attempts at night, but not as much during the day – and then managed to sneak right out the front door under the Spider's nose, scrambling to climb over the gate before anyone caught on. It was a classic move on Jack's part, and Race wondered why he had been so concerned in the first place.

The tension was gone from the bunkroom that night, but Race didn't sleep in the bunkroom. He took a blanket and climbed up to the roof where Jack and Crutchie always slept, and they sat for a while and talked. It was almost like a parallel to the other night out on the fire escape with Smalls, except now the twisting and knotting of fear was gone from his chest and he drifted off easily, both his brothers by his side.

And he had to admit, the look on Jack's face the next morning at the World when Smalls snuck up behind them and whispered _"hiya, Racer-Rose,"_ was absolutely priceless.

**Author's Note:**

> If anybody wants to check it out, I made a playlist based off this series: [[x]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6VNYJXkKg5geHbgfpSixgp?si=bfB2QHSWT12f5HbkAIz67Q)
> 
> and btw yes this is absolutely the start of Smalls calling Race "Racer-Rose" any chance she gets XDDDD
> 
> I forgot to tag "I Wrote This Instead Of Sleeping" but I most definitely DID do that, as usual, so I'm off to sleep now, see ya!


End file.
